


The World Doesn’t Deserve Him

by Slytheringirle



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Barricade Day 2019, Canonial Character Death, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Solving misunderstanding, shame they didn’t have much time, these two are just sweet, they don’t do anything else though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 12:57:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19107550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slytheringirle/pseuds/Slytheringirle
Summary: They sat like that for a while, Enjolras lost in his thoughts and Grantaire lost in him. Why hadn’t he brought his sketchbook with him? A charcoal drawing would be perfect right now with the shadows of the night alternating with the candle’s light. “Why do you hate me?” He asked out of the blue, breaking the silence. They were all going to die within the next three hours or so, better do it with no regrets..Written in honour of Barricade Day!





	The World Doesn’t Deserve Him

**Author's Note:**

> Admittably, this isn’t among my best fics, but please give it a shot.  
> .  
> I want to thank my beta for editing this and want to say that all mistakes are mine! Also, I’m aware that Hitler wasn’t even born back in 1832, but for the sake of this fic, let’s pretend that he was and that world war II are already happend, sorry for all History Majors.  
> .  
> The title was inspired from a line in the Book Thief; the world doen’t deservd them.

“We’ve been abandoned,” said Enjolras from atop the Musain’s wooden stairway, his posture that of defeat -that of which shouldn’t be associated with a god. “If you wish to leave then you’re free to do so.” We needn’t waste any more lives.”

There was a moment of silence as the words sunk in, and in that time Grantaire had wanted nothing more than to cross these goddamned meters separating them and comfort the avenging angel looking down from Mount Olympus. He’d known, of course, that this was going to happen. People would do anything to save their own skin. Maybe there was a place for change, but there weren't people to do it.

“I’m staying!” Cried Courfeyrac from where he was standing in the middle of the clearing facing the Musain, surrounded by their friends, breaking the silence. “I’m staying and we’re going to defeat the National Guard, take over the throne and show those bastards what they missed!”

The brief speech was followed by shouts of agreement and support from the amis -which were the only ones left at this point. He saw the blond straighten and up and gather his composure, seemingly to -presumably to point out that the goal of the rebellion was to bring down the monarchy system- before thinking better of it. ‘ _Good,’_ he thought ‘ _enjoy the moment while it lasts, Apollo.’_ After that everyone agreed that they should get some sleep while they could before the National Guard attacked. He wanted to say that they’d have a better chance of defeating the enemy if they attacked first, but kept his mouth shut. There was no chance in hell that they’ll win tonight and he knew it, no point in sending them to an early death. He may see the whole thing as some naive schoolboys’ dream, but he feared for the lives of his friends.

As they all returned to their respective spots -some against the barricade, others atop it- Jehan turned to Grantaire, who had been taking a sip out of his bottle, and spoke. “Are you going to drink now?” There was no judgment in the poet’s voice, just mild curiosity and perhaps a tinge of pity.

Grantaire shrugged. Yes, he was drinking. What was new in that? He’d been drinking the majority of his life, what were a few more hours? And if anything, now was a good time to drink as any. They were all dying soon, and he was a coward. He’ll need something to dull his awareness, to stop him from fleeing at the last moment. He knows he’ll never leave as longs as Apollo was there, but he doesn’t trust himself.

Jehan looked like they were about to say something but he was saved as they reached their side of the barricade. He collapsed on his side and propped himself up on his left arm, turning his back on Jehan. He loved the poet, make no mistake, but he didn’t feel like answering to anyone at the moment.

It took a while for everyone to settle down, leaving Enjolras sitting guard alone at the barricade. Grantaire watched the mighty Apollo through a gap in the furniture as he drank his sorrows away. In the pitch darkness of the night, with only a lone flickering candle for light, Enjolras glowed brighter than ever. It was as though he was setting the night afire by his mere existence -which, as far as he was concerned, was the case.

It shouldn’t be humanly possible to be that godlike. How was it fair that people like Enjolras existed in the same world the likes of him existed in? Where all the demons destined to fall for the Apollos? And spend an eternity wallowing away in their sorrows? No, that was cruel, even by the universe’s standards.

This was his third bottle for the day and by this time he was usually on the verge of passing out. Though not tonight. It was probably due to the fact that his drink tonight wasn’t as strong as the others, but he liked to believe that it was Apollo’s radiance that was keeping him in the world of the living, his radiance too strong to let him fall into the pit of unconsciousness.

He knew that attempting to sleep would be fruitless. In fact, it had been ages since he had fallen asleep -longer than he cared to remember. What he remembers is that one night, after a party with some so called friends of his, he hadn’t been able to sleep and was wandering his apartment in search of a brush he’d lost when he stumbled upon a half-full vodka bottle. With nothing better to do -he wasn’t that fond of his paintings in the first place- he’d drank it and kept looking for others after he’d finished it until he passed out.

He’d woken up with a splitting headache the next day and no regrets. This, however, hadn’t been a recurring theme at the beginning. He’d been able to fall asleep on some nights with no assistance and had stayed up painting on others. But as the latter became more frequent, he’d turned to alcohol for help. For some time it was only to help him fall asleep, but when he realized it had the power to drown his worries… Well, you could probably guess what happened next.

Grantaire took hold of a chair’s leg and stood up, making his way around the barricade and to the center of the clearing facing the Musain. His friends were scattered all over the place, some sleeping in the shadows and others in plain sight, just beside the barricade, but he only had eyes for the godlike creature claiming the barricade like a throne.

He climbed up said barricade quietly as not to startle Enjolras and would’ve succeeded hadn’t he tripped over a metal jug. He heard Enjolras jump to action immediately. “Who’s there?” Rang the blond’s voice through the night, clear as crystal.

Cursing under his breath, Grantaire took hold of a table’s legs and steadied himself. “Just me, my dearest Apollo.” He answered, grinning.

Enjolras visibly relaxed and sank back to his previous position. “And to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said as he made his way to the top and seated himself in front of Enjolras, the grin never leaving his face. “So I thought I might as well pay you a visit, see what your plans for the afterlife are.”

“Go sleep, Grantaire.” Said Enjolras with an eyeroll, averting his gaze back to the enemy's’ direction. “Heaven knows you’ve managed to do that for years, I don’t see why you should stop now.”

“Perhaps I thought it was time for a change,” he mocked. “Time to-“

“Don’t,” hissed Enjolras, “don’t mock the-“

“-cause.” He finished with a smirk, “I know.”

Enjolras shot him a look he couldn’t quite decipher, somewhere between annoyance and disappointment, before fixing his eyes on the opposing side once again.

They sat like that for a while, Enjolras lost in his thoughts and Grantaire lost in him. Why hadn’t he brought his sketchbook with him? A charcoal drawing would be perfect right now with the shadows of the night alternating with the candle’s light. “Why do you hate me?” He asked out of the blue, breaking the silence. They were all going to die within the next three hours or so, better do it with no regrets.

Enjolras turned to look at him, a confused look clouding his vision. “I don’t hate you,” he said, his tone indicating that he was stating the obvious.

He snorted. “And Hitler didn’t hate the Jews. Come on Apollo,” he said, turning so that he was fully facing him. “There is no need to deny the glaring truth, if you’re not up to talking about it, then simply say so.” He said bluntly, not feeling like dancing around tonight. They’ll be dead in a few hours, better get things cleared up before it’s too late.

“Don’t call me that,” retorted Enjolras half-heartedly. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who wasn’t up to it on the dreary night. “And I meant what I said, I don’t hate you. In fact,” Enjolras turned so that he was fully facing him. “ _I_ should be asking you this question. You’re the one who taunts me at every chance you get.”

Grantaire laughed despite himself, his laughter a roar in the dead silence of the night. “I don’t hate you Apollo,” he answered, echoing the other man’s words and ignoring his request. “No one can, you’re the fearless Apollo, god of the sun! The least anyone can do is worship you.”

“But I’m not fearless,” said Enjolras in a defeated tone. “I was afraid that the people will not rise, that we’ll be abandoned, and that’s what happened.” He finished with a shrug, his eyes sweeping the barricade.

“Which only proves how much of a god you are,” murmured Grantaire, quietly enough so that Enjolras couldn’t hear him. Out loud, he said: “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; the people are past the gone, everybody has their head up their asses. You can’t change the country with a corrupt civilization! There is a place for change, but there aren’t people who are willing to do it, people are capable of putting their country before themselves.”

Enjolras brought his legs up to his chest, resting his head on his lap; fingers intertwined underneath. “Perhaps you were right, and there is no denying it; we’re going to lose. But I still have hope, you know?” Enjolras looked up at him with a defeated, broken look, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“That’s what makes you Apollo after all,” he said with a tone matching Enjolras’s look. “You see the light in the darkness.”

It was as though the fight was drowning out of both of them, as though death’s looming shadow was sucking the life out of them already. And although Grantaire was used to it, it looked on Enjolras. He was the god of the sun, defeat and submittance should be considered sins for him.

“Then why do you go on with it?” He asked. “Why not retreat if you know it’s doomed? I know you care about the others” -he didn’t say ‘us’ because he knows Enjolras couldn’t care less about him. Why would he?- “lives, please don’t let them die in vain.” He pleaded.

“Even if we die tonight,” Enjolras raised his head and swung his legs over a bent table, regaining some of his previous fire. Even death couldn’t get to him. “Our death will open a door for change. People will rise one day, they’ll be the fuel for the world’s fire for equality, and our deaths are necessary to ignite that fire, then so be it.”

“Why did I think I could change your mind?” He scoffed, more to himself than to Enjolras.

“Don’t undermine yourself, Grantaire. You’re one of the most eloquent men I’ve ever had the honor to meet, despite of what I’ve said previously. You know more artists and philosophers than I could ever count; you always quote them flawlessly, as though you’ve memorised their work by heart, which is what you could’ve done for all I know. And that only proves what you’re capable of.

“Your greek mythology knowledge is astounding! I’ve seen you list every character ever mentioned in mythology, no matter how brief their appearance was. You’re a great man capable of greater things Grantaire. I don’t know why you choose to drink your life away.” Enjolras deflated at the end of the speech, returning to his earlier posture. It was as though he and death were playing _pull the rope_ , each trying to get the other down. Grantaire rooted for Eniolras.

He was quite flattered by Enjolras’s speech. Did the man really think that highly of him? But then again, said the man had a gift with words, he could walk his way out of hell -not that he’d ever need to. Though it was going to need more than one speech delivered by a golden curled god to convert him off his cynicism. “Some of us don’t have Patria to fuel our will for life, so we turn to wine for help.”

“And mockery, why do you always mock me?”

He wasn’t going to let it go, was he? But he supposed this was his fault, he had brought the sibject up after all. “The wine can’t do all the job,” he said, shrugging and hoping that Enjolras would buy it, nevermind the fact that the answer didn’t make sense to even him.

The blond merely looked at him. “It gives me something to do,’ he answered, delating. “All that energy has to go somewhere, you know?”

“It’s not Caffeine Grantaire, alcohol weakens you. I’ve learned that much from Combeferre.”

He sighed internally; this was going to be harder than he’d thought. “Because you actually pay attention to me then, even if you dismiss as a drunken cynic afterwards.” He was going for the truth now? Wow. Looks like death does make reckless fools of people after all. “I know you hate me, or extremely dislike me at the very least. But at these moments I manage to convince myself of the contrary, that I have a chance with you Enjolras. Even if it was just for a fleeting moment.” His voice lowered to a murmured towards the end as he wrapped his arms around his legs, dropping his gaze to the ground in shame.

He’d always known that Enjolras would never return his feelings, not in a thousand years, but he was sure that it’ll still hurt like hell if he looked up and saw the man’s look of disgust. Why did he have to go ahead and ramble his heart out? They’ll all be history by sunrise for heaven’s sake! Why couldn’t he keep himself in check for a few more hours?

“Grantaire,” Enjolras’s voice rang softly through the night. “Grantaire look at me”

Reluctantly, he lifted his head and locked eyes with Enjolras. The blond’s look would’ve perhaps been that of disgust and pity, but Grantaire was too focused on the intensity of the cerulean blue eyes to pay mind to anything else.

“I’m sorry, I swear I hadn’t realised. Had I known-“

“What?” He inquired harshly, his attention span expanding to take in his surroundings once again. “You would’ve pitied me? Or treated me like a lovesick puppy?” He scoffed at his own stupidity. “No, of course not. You would’ve just kicked me out of the group.”

The hurt on Enjolras’s face didn’t stop him from getting up and giving the man a final look. “Save it,” he gritted before descending down the barricade.

It’s not that he’d expected Enjolras to return his feelings or anything, but- He shook his head, as though to shake the thoughts off. He’d managed to deal with unrequited love for a couple of years now, he could deal with a few more hours.

“I would’ve acted sooner,” rang Enjolras’s voice through the night, freezing him in his tracks. “Gained us some time… I love you ‘taire.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in, and when they did, he turned so that he was facing Enjolras -who was looking down at him from atop the barricade, looking every inch like the god he is. “I don’t believe you.” The words were out of his mouth before he could realise what he was saying, but when he did, he couldn’t help but agree. Of course Enjolras doesn’t lie, no god does, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe him. _Why though? Isn’t that what you’ve been longing for all along?_

“Why not?” The hurt trailed into his voice. “You’re a beautiful, smart man, Granataire. Do you think I can give a speech on the spot about anyone?”

“Why not? You’re Apollo,” Murmured Grantaire, his eyes dropping to that ground as though burned by Enjolras’s fire.

He heard a clinking and looked up to see Enjolras make his way down the barricade and come to stand in front of him before dropping his gaze once again. “I’m no god,” Enjolras said firmly, a fire igniting in his voice as he placed his hand under his chin and lifted his head. “The people would’ve risen if I were a god, they would have supported us and we would’ve been building other barricades right now, making our way to the palace, but here we are.” He finished with a sweep of his hand -the same one that had been under his chin. “I’m just human.”

He took hold of Enjolras’s hand and pulled him towards him as he stepped forward, meeting him halfway and wrapping his arms around the blond. Enjolras’s breath was warm against his breath, and after the speech, he couldn’t resist anymore.

“May I?” He asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Ths slight nod from Enjolras wall all the confirmation he needed. Placing his hand on the other man’s jaw, Grantaire leaned in and joined their lips. Enjolras’s mouth tasted of mind and smoke, he pried his lips apart and slipped his tongue in, exploring the blond’s mouth as he moved his hand to the back of Enjolras’s head so he wouldn’t stumble backwards.

After a couple of seconds, they pulled back for air, matching grins pasted on their faces.

“That was-“

“-magical.” He finished, wrapping his arms around Enjolras and resting his head against his shoulder. They stood like that for a while, breathing in harmony and enjoying the moment before Enjolras broke it.

“I should go back,” he said, squeezing Grantaire’s shoulder as he pulled back. “Try to get some sleep,” said Enjolras throwing him a weak smile over his shoulder as he walked back to the barricade.

He shook his head, aware that Enjolras can’t see him. “I can’t,” he said, smiling as jogged to Enjolras. “So I might as well stay with you. Unless, of course, you don’t-“

“No, you’re staying.” Said Enjolras, wrapping an arm around his waist.

He smiled as they reached the barricade and made their way to the top. Once their, they settled on a table with their arms wrapped around each other, each content with the other’s presence.

After a while, Enjolras broke the silence once again. “I’d ask you to leave, but I’m too selfish. I’ve always argued back with you for the same reason you did; to seek your attention. I love you ‘taire -he murmured an I love you too- and I know you don’t believe in the cause, but I still want you by my side.”

“I believe in you,” he said softly into the silent night, “that’s enough reason for me to stay.” Perhaps, if they retreated tonight, they could wait for right time and spring into action once again, with an actual chance of succeding. But the world was a cruel place, and it didn’t deserve people like Enjolras, or the rest of their friends for the matter.

  **-**

They spent the night wrapped in each others’ arms and whispering sweet nothings in each others’ ears. When the morning came, and the National Guard with it, Grantaire stayed by Enjolras’s side and fought till they were the last two standing, cornered in the Musain. No words were exchanged when they firing squad approached them -they merely took hold of each others’ hand and welcomed death with a smile.

 

**Author's Note:**

> ...Yeah, probably one of my worst fics. But if you like, say, one line or word, maybe consider giving me a kudo? And no flames please!  
> .  
> Checkout my Tumblr! [@enjolraire-is-canon](https://enjoltaire-is-canon.tumblr.com/%22)  
> .  
> Happy Barricade Day!


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